“Fuck me, shut the fuck up,” Cal entered the conversation, glaring at both Ryker and Devin. “Caked. Jesus. Seriously? Are we talkin’ about cakes?”

“Jesus, holy fuck,” Rivera murmured, coming to a quick halt and looking up at the tall, hulking, tattoo-sleeved Ryker. “Boy, what’d your Mama feed you growin’ up?” he asked. “Newborn babies,” Ryker answered, scowling down at Rivera.”

“Gotta admit, I wasn’t committed to the task,” Ryker confessed. “But for a bitch in a tight tee with a great rack who makes twelve layer cakes and likes drunk sex, I’ll step it up,” he offered.”

“You talk about Cal, you look like a woman who's talkin' about the man she needs to breathe.”

“You comin’ or what?” Ryker returned. Layne glanced through Merry and Cal, nodded and followed Ryker. It would seem big, scary, badass, looking like a raving lunatic Ryker needed his BFF.Fuck.”

“…when you talk about Mike, you look like a woman who’s talkin’ about a guy she likes. You talk about Cal, you look like a woman who’s talkin’ about the man she needs to breathe.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.…“Language in front of the girls,” I snapped.“Baby, they hear it all the time,” he returned and I felt my eyes get wide in motherly affront. Cal looked at my face then over the seat to the girls and asked, “You gonna say fuck because I say fuck?”“No,” Kate answered immediately.“No, ‘cause Mom doesn’t like it,” Keira replied waspishly. Cal looked back at me and raised his brows.”